A Tale Of Two Lovers, On Its Head

Broken, dragged, tortured, they were.
Plain, friendly, in love were they.
Succeed, truimph, excel, was the plan.
Tired, discouraged, reckless she was.

A poem, fictitious, fantasy, is it's genre.
A friend, a fiend he met.
Value, lies, enigma are  three different words.
Intrinsic, essential, inherent are those words to the story.

Semantics, etymology, don't matter surely.
Verbose, excessive, magniloquent I seem to be.
Intended, conscious, am I, of this.
Synonyms, antonyms, you need to understand.

Covet, surreptitious, lurky were her antics.
A team, a couple they were.
Killed, murdering, they did a colleague.
Haunted, traumatized they became.

Estranged, alienated, they became.
Strained, exhausted was their relationship.
Disrespected, disregarded she felt.
Divorce, dissolution she sought.
Shishi, pikim, left his lips.

The end, fin, finis, owari, ende, telos, ogwogwo.

Dreams

We are spiritual beings, whether we choose to accept it or not.
That's the more reason why I can't ever let someone say, "for example you were poor". Because by doing that, you are making me believe, not that I'm poor, consciously, but making me believe I'm poor subconsciously, which is more deadly, because I wouldn't know it's there in my head.
And that is where dreams come in.
Dreams help to increase our decrease a perception. I can't say for sure though.
Imagine this, I shot a gun in a dream. Of which it felt like a real fun. And funny enough it's the first time I held a pistol awake or dreaming.
So how do I know it's a real gun? I just felt it.
Feeling is a much stronger force than knowing: which is logical, i.e, based on calculations and deductions from reason.
As I held the gun, I asked the person who gave it to me if it was loaded, and he said," yes ".
My wet hand held the gun. So as I was about taking my first shot, something reminded of the lecture I had in physics about nine years ago. It was about the third law of motion (action and reaction are equal and opposite) and as I hand held the gun, it felt like the recoil force would make me miss my target, plus my hand was wet which would increase the recoil force and make me miss my target. So I decided to dry my hand and the gun.
After that, I took a shot at my target and missed and I felt it was so real. I honestly cannot explain this feeling.
It's like the feeling of knowing you made an error somewhere in your calculations before aiming at your target. Just like I would have felt in real life.
My point is, dreams are more real than we care to give it credit.
This only proves how much we need God.
We need God much more than we know.

Perception

How you saw things ten years ago isn't how you are seeing them now.
A better way to put it would be: how you felt about things ten years isn't how you are feeling things now.
And as you get older , that's how boring everything around you get depending on the actions you've taking over the years.
The feeling is all in your brain.
I am writing this feeling all different in perception. In fact, I feel like I went ten years back in time.
But this ask is happening in my mind. I am sane and awake. You should note that.
The feeling is that of ecstacy.I absolute am not sure what would trigger such immense feeling but thank God it happened.
Somehow I felt as if sleeping again will make me lose it. Though I know it will soon expire, since I can feel it leaving as I write. But it leaves me with knowledge of the fact that somewhere in my mind, there is happiness and I can locate it next time.
About that (locating a feeling): it's not an exact science per se, but it's worth trying.
It is almost trial and error, but with a pinch of salt.
To locate a feeling, I use a picture, a song, a landmark, a food, a person. These are, with relation to how I felt as at that time those items(pictures, song etc) and I were in sync.
If I can locate these memories, I can juxtapose them against the feeling I felt back then and use the aura that comes with it.

Aurora Equatorialis

The sun is going to its home
far far, in the west.
Approaching New York,
will it in time
and lighting up Bermuda
as it goes.

It diffuses into the clouds,
like a red smoke, as it obeys
Brownian motion.

Simile was a distant cousin
to the second stanza.
So don't correct me
even if I'm wrong.

The moon mocks the sun
as it leaves.
As Mourinho would Wenger,
when victory glides
into his palms.

Though the stars
are shy tonight,
but they hope to pry.
For our star-system
is not dry like theirs.

As the northern lights
wiggle in the Arctic,
my equatorial eyes
beg to behold its aurora,
as would an Eskimo plead
to hug the warmth of summer.

Winter mocks me
for it is nigh.
It mocks me even more,
for it isn't going to swing by.